


lean on me (when you're not strong)

by professortennant



Category: The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: Caretaking, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, post-episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 08:38:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13900344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professortennant/pseuds/professortennant
Summary: Vulnerability does not come easy for Hecate Hardbroom. It feels weak, somehow, to ask for help; to lean on others. But the school is at risk–her home is at risk–and she does not have time to fear anything. She needs somewhere safe, someone safe. She needs Pippa.





	lean on me (when you're not strong)

Vulnerability does not come easy for Hecate Hardbroom. It feels  _weak,_  somehow, to ask for help; to lean on others. Perhaps it is because she is terrified she will forget how to stand on her own if she leans on those around her; terrified that their support will disappear and she will be left dizzy and unbalanced.

But the school is at risk–her  _home_  is at risk–and she does not have time to fear anything. She needs somewhere safe,  _someone_  safe. 

She transfers to Pentangle’s Academy with a few twists of her wrist and it takes her a second to catch her breath–partially from exhaustion and exertion, partially from panic. Her magic crackles uncontrollably at her fingertips and she can feel herself falling apart at the seams. 

Hecate doesn’t get far down the twisting stone hallways before warm arms around slipping around her waist, a steadying hand is at her back and drifting up to cup her cheek, a soft, “Hiccup?” in her ear. 

She doesn’t remember being led into pink and green and purple quarters; doesn’t remember soft hands pushing her down into a cushioned chair; doesn’t remember Pippa untangling her hair and plaiting it into a single loose braid down her back while she hums softly under her breath–a distant, far-off song from their school days.

Hecate leans forward, some part of her still terrified that Pippa will be ripped from beneath her feet. She needs to learn to stand alone.

But Pippa is there again, unwilling to allow Hecate to suffer alone, to break in silence. “Lean on me, Hiccup. Tell me everything.”

Hecate hesitates for a moment before swallowing a raspy breath, holding back the tears that sting at her eyes. And then she sinks back into the chair, leans herself against the warmth of Pippa’s body, allows Pippa’s fingers to stroke carefully across the top of her head and into her hair. 

It spills out of her in short, clipped, gasping sentences: Ada’s dismissal from Cackle’s, the jeopardy of Cackle’s future, the incoming burden of being Headmistress, the fear that this is all terribly, inexplicably  _Hecate’s_  fault.

Through it all, Pippa is a rock next to her, a pillar to be leaned upon. It sends a fresh wave of guilt and pain through Hecate. She could have had this for the last twenty years–Pippa could have been another buttress in Hecate’s life, someone to hold her up. 

Magic crackles and sparks as Hecate’s agitation builds once more and Pippa sighs softly before grasping her hand, thumb stroking over the pulse throbbing inside her wrist. “I’m here, Hiccup. I’m  _here._ None of this– _none of it–_ is you fault, dearheart.”

Hecate breaks for the first time in twenty years, allows the anxiety and pain and fear to leak out of her in the form of tears and whips and lashings of magic through the air. Pippa takes it all on without flinching, wipes away Hecate’s smudged eyeliner with a grin and absorbs the magical energy with a wave of her hand. 

Through it all, her comforting voice, low and murmuring and  _there_ , fills Hecate’s ears.  _Not your fault. I’m here. Let it out. Lean on me._

By the end of it, when every emotion is wrung from her soul, Hecate slumps against Pippa’s side, her spindly fingers tangled up in Pippa’s skirts–a security blanket and grounding object all in one. In the morning, she will be embarrassed and ashamed, red-faced and composed. In the morning, she will stand on her own two feet and remember that she is Deputy Headmistress Hecate Hardbroom and she doesn’t need anyone.

But tonight, she is simply Hiccup. Tonight, with her hair loosely braided and a touch wild, pressed against the woman she loves and trusts the most, safe and warm and protected, she is vulnerable. 

As her eyes close, she feels the barest brush of Pippa’s lips upon her brow, comforting and assuring. “I’ll make this right for you, Hiccup. I promise.”

Hecate falls asleep with Pippa’s hands in her hair and the ghost of her lips on her skin. She is home.


End file.
